I feel the breath of air on the back of my neck. My limbs freeze and my breath catches in my throat. The male hands grab me by the hips. I can't move. His lips are by my ear, grazing the skin, his teeth tugging on my earlobe. His breath is hot on my...
It will not be uploaded until Underage is completed. The description and an excerpt are below. As well as the working cover. The cover will probably be different by the time MISFIT LANE is available.
MISFIT LANE will not be on Radish. This one will be just for you guys.
This book will include the following people: Thea Ethan Grace Cooper Everett Trevor Raelynn Maybe Kyle, haven't decided yet.
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DESCRIPTION:
"Welcome to Misfit Lane, where the candy is all drugged, people turn up dead, and all of our problems are going to be solved."
Dela Clark doesn't think before she acts. She throws fists before words. She lets her anger fuel her actions. Expelled from two schools in two years, she forces what's left of her family to move. Now, an hour away from her hometown, she finds herself in Misfit Lane. The Delinquent Hall is where she spends five hours each Saturday with others like her.
Delinquents, outsiders, misfits.
A hothead, a pyromaniac, an adrenaline junkie, a thief, and a boy who doesn't seem like he belongs. In this small room on Misfit Lane, she finds she finally belongs somewhere. But, with a new school year approaching, will she be able to calm her temper to stay with her friends? Or will school number three be exactly like the first two?
Jansen Young is a mystery to the people of Misfit Lane. Maybe he doesn't belong in Delinquent Hall, but he stays. Each weekend he comes back. But, is it because he needs help or because he can't seem to stay away from a certain hot head.
He wants to help her. He wants to fix her. But can he? Or is she too far broken to fix?
EXCERPT: PROLOGUE
I used to believe in the monsters beneath my bed. I used to believe in the ones hiding between my hanging clothes, their eyes peering at me through the slits of the wooden door. I used to believe that the worst moments only happened when the darkness twirled around my room.
Childish fears, they told me.
Is it still childish when the monsters wore a familiar face and their hiding places became mine? When they stalked the halls only at night to conceal their faces. To conceal the beer bottle hung loosely by the neck.
His fingers always tightened around mine.
Those fears stuck to my skin, day or night, like a parasite finding its forever home.
But then, I fought back. Then, I let my anger consume and fuel me.
My anger has always been there—it seeped into my blood and diluted my essence. It made me crumble until I became a ball of rage. Until I could feel it building beneath my skin, changing—molding—me, like I was a balloon animal to twist and fold. It would expand, throughout the years, trapping the anger between my bones.
One day, I will explode. One day, I will take out everyone I love. All it would take was a single crack—a hole in a balloon.
Now, I live a life of disappointment, of resentment, of fearful looks. The same ones I used to give him. We're cut from the same cloth. We had the same blood flowing through our veins.
Life's made of seconds. Those seconds fed the minutes that faded into hours and then days. Those days melted into weeks and into years. Before you know it, you're floating through the air in tiny burnt pieces. Your ashes will ride the wind, looking for someplace to land. And when you finally settle, it'll be over. You'll remember your life—where you were too scared to live, too scared to fight, too scared to be yourself.
This isn't a place for what ifs, or maybes. Your life is not a playground for regrets.
So when you're standing on the edge, looking down, and wondering if it's worth it, it is.
So, jump.
Jump off the edge. It might hurt and you might be scared. It might be a short fall or a long one. But, the fall is the best part. Everyone hits the ground at some point.
Don't look back. Don't second guess. Just jump.
We all have monsters. Some hid beneath our beds. Some in our heads. Some even under the same roof. Some stalked you at night and some hid in plain sight.
Life isn't about the paint inflicted by the monsters that haunted us. But rather your actions in the rubble and destruction left behind.
Some crumbled. Some led it feed their determination. Some overplayed their pain with smiles and kind words. Some became an empty shell.
Me? I let the anger inside. I let it consume me—devour me.
